


We're All Strangers Here

by orphan_account



Category: Alien: Resurrection (1997)
Genre: Femslash, Multi, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Newborn is destroyed, the Betty's four survivors take some time to rest... and talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're All Strangers Here

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue in the last scene in this story is taken directly from the last scene in the special edition of _Alien Resurrection,_ which takes place after Johner kisses Vriess.  I added a few of the actions and some details.

The _Betty_ followed darkness.

By mutual agreement, the little ship's four inhabitants had decided not to land just yet.  They all needed just a little time for. . . for what?  What would change in the few hours of sleep and regrouping they would get orbiting the Earth's dark side?  Earth would be no less strange, no more inviting when they finally did decide to land.  And yet, they were all eager to put it off just a little longer.

 _Procrastination,_ thought Annalee Call as she peered at Earth's pin-lit surface from one of the pilot's chairs in the _Betty_ 's cockpit.  _Typical human reaction, the desire to put off the inevitable._   Weird thing was, half of the tiny crew wasn't even human.

Call sighed and drew her legs up to her body, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees.  What were they going to do on Earth?  Would they have to explain the _Auriga's_ disaster?  Maybe not if they avoided the right people, but. . . but still, what in God's name were they going to _do_?  Without Elgyn, without Hilliard and Christie, it was hard to imagine the _Betty_ doing runs again.  Call could fly if she had to, and while Johner and Vriess weren't exactly experts, they _had_ managed not to crash.  But who would lead them, keep them working together when all they wanted was to slit each other's throats?  Call didn't dare hope that Ripley--

"Good thing I don't menstruate."

" _What_?"  Call spun around to face Ripley, who was walking towards the other pilot's chair with that strange, stalking gait.

"My blood is acidic," said Ripley, patient and serious, as she sat down.  "What the hell would you do with me for a week out of every month?"

"Oh."  Call blinked.  She wasn't exactly comfortable discussing "female problems" with Ripley, but her curiosity got the better of her.  "You said the queen had mutated due to your DNA, that she gave live birth to--"  A flicker of pain shone out of Ripley's dark eyes, and Call quickly amended her statement.  "That she gave live birth.  So why wouldn't the same be true of you?"

Ripley shrugged.  "I don't know.  They never told me-- Dr. Wrenn wasn't much into sex ed class.  Guess if I start feeling broody, I'll make a nest and expect eggs to pop out."  She grinned at Call's slightly disgusted expression.

"I'm surprised they didn't try to. . . to breed you," Call said, turning back to the view of the dark planet beneath them.

"They weren't really interested in me.  _She_ was the one they cared about.  I was just a by-product."  Call didn't exactly believe that, not after seeing Ripley's. . . sisters, numbers one through seven.  Wrenn and Gediman had created those unviable hybrid Ripley clones before they got number eight, where the human genes had overcome the alien save for the acid in her blood and the things that moved behind her eyes.  If the doctors hadn't been interested in Ripley, why had they going, creating monstrosities until they got it right?  They could have gotten enough xenomorphs for their project from three clones, four at the most.

And for that matter, why had they kept number seven alive?  Call shuddered even now, remembering her beautiful face, the human hand and breasts superimposed on a twisted alien form, the hoarse voice that knew only two words.  It almost hurt Call physically to think of her.  How then must Ripley-- _her_ Ripley, number eight-- have felt, seeing her face on a monster's body, knowing that her memories lived behind those scared eyes?

"Who would they have bred me with anyway?" Ripley was saying when Call forced herself to return to the present.  "Wrenn would never have deigned to. . . mate with me.  And Gediman--"  She gave a short laugh.  "I'm too human to have gotten _him_ off."

Call found herself smiling.  "I don't think you missed much on either account."

"Nah."  Ripley stretched her long legs out in front of her.  "To be honest, I don't think I've missed much, period.  Sex is overrated."  She paused, cocking her head in a way Call found intriguing.  "I didn't used to think that-- well, the original Ripley didn't.  Technically, I'm a virgin again though, so maybe chastity is part and parcel of it."

"Maybe.  Or maybe it's because you're. . . ."

"Part alien?"  Ripley looked at Call, her dark eyes amused.  "You can say it. . . robot."

It wasn't meant as an insult, and Call knew it.  It was. . . fond in a twisted way, Ripley saying in the only way she knew how that they were very much alike.  Call smiled, turning her face away so Ripley wouldn't see.

"At least having the two of us around instead of _real_ women will cut down on supplies."

Ripley laughed, a surprising, ringing laugh.  "Who says we aren't real women?"

Call glanced at her again.  "Everyone."

"Then everyone's wrong."  Ripley settled herself more comfortably in the chair and looked down on the Earth.  _A queen on her throne,_ thought Call.  _She belongs here._

"Ripley," Call finally said hesitantly, "Are you going. . . when we leave Earth again, are you coming with us?"

"You don't think you'll stay here, then?"

"I don't want to," said Call.  "Neither do Vriess and Johner, I think.  But for now, we're just. . .  here."

"Nothing wrong with that," Ripley said in her clipped voice, not wasting more words or breath than necessary.  " _Carpe diem.  Que sera sera_."  She was smiling, just a little.  Call began to smile again herself.

" _Veni, vidi, vici._   Appropriate for you."

"Deus ex machina," Ripley replied, her smile already faded and her eyes intense once more.  "Appropriate for _you_."  Call's grin disappeared, and the two women stared at one another, so engrossed neither noticed Johner slip onto the bridge behind them.

"Yeah," said Call after a moment.  "Kind of.  Although actually, I _killed_ the god."  She smirked, and Ripley seemed to relax.

"Did he have a soul?" Ripley asked idly.  "Father, I mean."

"It," Call corrected quickly.  "And no, it didn't."

"Do you?"

Still unnoticed, Johner shook his head with a grimace and left the cockpit, retreating into the _Betty's_ tiny sleeping quarters.

After he was gone, the two women continued to watch each other, dark eyes locked.  It was a long, long moment before Call replied "Do any of us?"

  
"We're surrounded by crazy bitches," Johner commented, folding his large frame into one of the narrow lower bunks in the sleeping quarters.  In the bunk across from him, Vriess groaned and dragged his eyes open.

"Dammit, Johner, I was asleep!"

"I wouldn't if I were you," the larger man said.  "The ladies are up in the front trying to figure out if the paranoid android has a soul or not.  Before long, they'll figure she don't and that Ripley don't have a sense of decency, then they'll come kill us.  If this damn junk pile of a ship doesn't crash first."

"Betty'll hold up," Vriess muttered automatically.  "She's been through worse."

"Worse?  _Worse_?"  Johner turned his head towards Vriess, goading him.  "Name one thing that's happened to us worse than getting attacked by xenomorphs, losing half our crew, and finding out that the only women around aren't even human."

"If Betty survived _you_ steering 'er," Vriess said acidly, "then she can manage flying on auto-pilot."

"Hey, you were the one who said he knew how to fly 'er," Johner pointed out to the other man.  "Don't blame it all on me."

"Whatever."

All Vriess wanted was to go to sleep and forget the hell they'd just been through.  Johner, however, was in a talkative mood.  He lay on his back, hands laced behind his head.  "Every one of us is screwed up."  Vriess groaned inwardly, knowing that sleep wouldn't come for some time.  Once Johner got to talking, nothing short of gunfire would shut him up.  "You're a cripple, Call's a robot, and Ripley's a freakin' half-alien clone.  Man," he continued, shaking his head, "glad _I'm_ not a clone."

Vriess, tired as he was, couldn't resist that one.  "Yeah, one of you's bad enough."

Johner smirked triumphantly, having drawn Vriess into yet another argument.  Vriess noticed the smirk and glared.  "You forgot to mention what's screwed up about _you_ ," he pointed out, giving Johner a vicious look that went completely unnoticed.

"Yeah?  Fill me in."  Johner stared up at the bunk over his head.

"Let me make a list," Vriess spat, then fell silent.

Johner frowned.  "No, 'm serious."  He turned his head to glance at Vriess.  "Tell me."

Vriess began to tick a list off on his fingers.  "You're a sadist."  Tick.  "You're a bastard."  Tick.  "And you're emotionally inept."  Tick.

"Not bad," Johner said.  "First one-- well, you got me there.  Second one, that's a matter of opinion.  But the third one. . . ."  He turned on his side, his propped up on his elbow.  "That one hurt."

"Well it's true," Vriess grumbled, staring pointedly upwards.  "Three of our closest friends are dead, and you don't even care."

"Maybe I do care," Johner said casually and quite unconvincingly.

"Call has more feelings than you do," Vriess continued bitterly, "and she's a damn auton."

"Hmm.  Call."  Johner watched Vriess's face closely.  "You had a thing for her, didn't you."  Vriess didn't answer, didn't even blink.  "Yeah, I saw the way you looked at her.  And now, not only is she just a machine, you lost her to another chick."  Johner shook his head.  "Man, that's gotta sting."

Vriess looked at him again in surprise, caught off guard.  "What d'ya mean, 'lost her to another chick'?"

Johner gave him a look of mock astonishment.  "Oh, come on, don't tell me you haven't noticed those two."

"Call and. . . Ripley?"

"No, the _other_ alien dominatrix wandering around this ship," Johner said sarcastically.  "Whatcha think about that?  I mean, does a chick-chick thing do anything for ya?"

Vriess made a noncommittal noise that apparently didn't even register with Johner.

"I mean, I'm cool with it, ya know," the larger man went on, "if that's what they're into.  But some guys are like, really turned on by two girls doin' it.  As for me. . . ."  He shrugged.  "Sex isn't any fun if I'm not involved in it."

"Johner.  I don't care."  Vriess looked up at the overhead bunk again crossly.

Johner studied him a moment.  "You really had it bad for Call, hunh?"

Vriess had had enough.  "Even if I did, it's none of your business," he exploded.  "You don't feel _anything_ , do you?  Have you _ever_ cared about one damn person other than yourself?"

Johner looked surprised at the usually quiet Vriess's outburst.  "Look," he muttered, "when they died. . . Elgyn and Hilliard and Christie. . . it bothered me, yeah.  But I try not to notice when things bother me.  That way, it doesn't hurt as much."

Vriess turned his head towards Johner in amazement.  Johner actually sounded. . . human.  But before Vriess could think of anything appropriate to say, Johner lay down once more, face turned away from Vriess to end the discussion.  Vriess sighed and looked at the other wall.

 _Better not to think about Johner having feelings anyway,_ Vriess told himself.  _Someone like him's just. . . safer if he's an emotionless clod of meat.  He's violent enough as it is._

But there was something else, something Vriess had been trying to push from his mind-- namely, Johner grabbing Vriess's face and kissing him.  It wasn't really the action that bothered him; that could have been written off to almost anything, including Johner's exhilaration at saving his own skin.  It was Vriess's own _reaction_ to it that freaked him out.  He couldn't quit thinking about it, couldn't quit remembering the way Johner's rough lips felt against his own.

Afterwards, Johner had just grinned at him, his thick arm around Vriess' neck, before stomping back through the ship to see what had happened to the others.  The _Betty_ 's next hour was spent disposing of the bodies-- Wrenn and Purvis's bodies anyhow.  Destefano's remains had been sucked out into space after Ripley's bastard alien baby.  After that, the crew had showered methodically and scattered throughout the small ship.  Johner was the only one with an appetite, and while he ransacked the food stores and the women sat on the bridge, Vriess had gone to bed.  He had slept fine _then_ , until Johner woke him up.  Now sleep seemed far away.

 _Damn him anyway,_ thought Vriess, rubbing a hand over his eyes.  He tried to think of something else, but everything that came to mind was too horrible.  Finally, he settled for silently mourning his lost chair.  He had spent years on the thing, perfecting all the gadgets and mechanisms, and working in the concealed gun parts of which he was so proud.  There was a bright side to its loss however.  Mechanical projects were what kept Vriess from going insane on long space flights, and reconstructing his chair was a hell of a project.

The distraction of planning his new and improved mobility device did the trick, and when sleep finally overtook Vriess again, he was not thinking of aliens or Call or Johner's kiss, but of the best hiding place for grenades on a wheelchair.

\--

"I wonder," Ripley said softly, more to herself and the dark of space than to Call, "how long I could pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"To be human."  Ripley looked at the small android, her upper lip curled just a little.  "I wonder how long I could walk around down there on Earth, or travel up here, without someone realizing that. . . something was wrong."

"I don't know," Call replied.  "I've always fooled everyone."  Ripley made a small noise, causing Call to turn towards her.  "Did _you_ ever guess?  Before you knew."

"I knew you were different from the start," Ripley said, shrugging once more.  "You were too nice to be human."  She smirked a little, then went on.  "And. . . you smelled different.  Not like the humans or the aliens.  Better, in a way."

"That's nice to know," Call said lightly, but inside, she was touched.

"I-- well, the first me-- never was that great at picking out the autons though," Ripley muttered.  She rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and laced her long fingers together.  "The other two I worked with were real surprises."

When Ripley didn't go on, Call asked, "What were they like?"

Ripley arched an eyebrow.  "You seem interested.  I didn't think you liked your own kind that much."

Call flushed.  "Well, it was 200 years ago.  I just wondered if they were different from. . . from me."

"Actually the first one I knew-- Ash-- was more like 260 years ago.  Dunno if you heard or not, but I was in cryo for quite a few years in between. . . encounters.  Anyway, Ash was a real asshole-- malfunctioned and tried to kill me.  He really had me fooled though; if he hadn't gone haywire, I would have thought he was human.  The other one, Bishop. . . he was decent enough."  Ripley smirked and looked at Call.  "Weird thing is, both of them were fascinated with the xenomorphs.  You're the first robot I've met who hated the things."

Call smiled faintly.  "Guess they _were_ different from me then."

"What about me?" Ripley asked after a moment.  "Do you think anyone would know I'm not all human?"

"If you were around them long enough," Call said thoughtfully.  "I think people realize you're different from the start, but if you don't get too close to them, they would probably just think you were. . . strange."

Ripley fixed her gaze on the glittering lights below them.  A strange, inhuman smile graced her lips.  "So I guess that means taking a lover is out of the question."

Call felt a blush creep across her cheeks.  "Unless they already knew," she replied to cover her naive embarrassment, then she realized that just made things worse.

Leaning forward, Ripley smiled the smile of a predator.  "Such talk embarrasses an auton?"

"It's my. . . programming," Call faltered.  Ripley stood and moved toward Call before crouching down beside the girl's chair.  She somehow managed to look both savage and tender.

"Have you ever been with anyone?" Ripley asked.

"Once," Call looked down, even more flustered.  "I. . . .  When I first joined the _Betty's_ crew, I had the biggest crush on Elgyn."  At Ripley's blank look, Call added hastily, "The first man to die."

"Oh yes.  Him."

"And one night. . . we--"  She broke off, then looked down, muttering, "Hilliard never knew.  She would have killed us both.  And then herself, maybe."  The auton fell silent as a single tear ran down her cheek.  She was surprised when she felt long nails flick the tear away.  Call looked into Ripley's tumultuous eyes and saw sympathy there.

Finding the strength to continue, Call went on, "It wasn't like it was supposed to be.  It was quick, and he wasn't gentle at all.  I don't think he really cared about it."  She shrugged bitterly.  "Neither did I after that.  I never was attracted to him again."

Ripley rose from her crouch and leaned forward, holding Call's head between two long-fingered hands.  The girl stared at her until Ripley let go and stood in one fluid motion. Strangely disappointed, Call looked down, her small shoulders drooping.  Ripley studied her, head cocked to one side in a querulous, inhuman gesture.  
  
"So.  Why did you stop with Elgyn?  Vriess seems to like you.  Or did the chair get to you?"

"Of course not!" Call retorted.  "But I don't feel that way about him.  It would be mean to lead him on just to. . . to experiment."  She wrinkled her nose and said, "Why are you asking me this?"

"Why are you answering me?"  Call felt the sense of irritation Ripley had caused in her from the beginning-- the idea that the other woman was amused by her and secretly laughing at her.  But Ripley just smiled at Call's indignant expression.

"Never mind."  Ripley put one hand on Call's head and stroked her short, dark hair back, smoothing it.  Call stared up at her, trying to decipher the expression on Ripley's face.  She was a little unnerved to realize that Ripley was looking at her rather like she had looked at the skull-faced alien baby.  Like a mother looking to replace a lost child.

"Stop it," Call muttered, ducking out from under Ripley's hand.  The hybrid woman looked hurt for an instant, making Call feel guilty, but then Ripley just nodded and went back to the other pilot's chair.

"I'm sorry," Call said.  "I just--"

"No, it's fine."  Ripley sat down and scanned the darkness outside the ship.  "The last thing either of us needs is for me to start caring about you."

"What?  Why?"  Silently, Call added, _You mean you don't care about me now?_

Ripley glanced at her with a humorless smile.  "Everyone I care about ends up dead."

\--

Vriess's eyes shot open at the first hint of a noise.  It was pitch dark in the room as he slid out of bed, using his arms to lower himself to the ground and move forward.  His hand went right into a puddle of something viscous and sticky that coated his palm as he pulled his hand back with a grimace.  The noise came again, clarifying itself into quiet breathing and. . . dripping?

The lights came up suddenly, revealing that the walls of the cabin had been covered with the resin-like secretion of the monsters.  Vriess and Johner's small cabin now resembled a cave with an organic interior.

 _Shit,_ thought Vriess.  _One of the creatures must have sneaked on board!_   His thoughts lost all coherency when he finally processed the horrific sight before him: Ripley and Call had already been captured.

The two women were mounted on the far wall like crucified hunting trophies.  Only their faces, hands, and bare feet were free of the slime that entrapped them.  Call was struggling faintly to free herself.

 _Doesn't the thing know she's a robot?_ Vriess found himself wondering, even though he had much bigger things to worry about.  _It couldn't plant its babies in **her**. . . ._

Ripley didn't seemed concerned about the situation.  She held out one of her hands towards Vriess then flicked her wrist.  Razor blades popped out from underneath her golden, talon-like fingernails, and she used them to slice neatly through the secretion.  She seemed to be naked underneath the coating of alien goop, although Vriess couldn't have cared less at the moment.  He looked around frantically, wondering where the xenomorph could be hiding, as Ripley freed Call with her nails.

"Where's the monster?" Vriess rasped.  He was frightened of the women without really knowing why, and he tried to push himself away from them with his arms.  "And where's Johner?"

Neither woman answered; instead they turned to face each other. There was a small fleck of alien goo clinging to Call's cheek, the only thing marring her lovely, pale, synthetic face.  Ripley leaned over and licked the goo off.  Call suddenly pressed her lips to Ripley's in a passionate kiss, their bodies coming together and sticking that way, glued with slime.

"Dammit, where's Johner?" Vriess demanded again.  Call pulled her mouth away from Ripley just long enough to speak.

"Oh, he's dead," she said before she began caressing Ripley's neck.

"Yes," said Ripley, tilting her head back.  Her dark eyes, now more alien than human, met Vriess's gaze, and she smiled.  "My baby ate him."

The razor blades flicked out from under her nails once more, and she ran her hand down Call's back.  Five trails of milky white auton blood swelled upward as everything went dark and Vriess began to scream.

\--

"Vriess! You okay, man?" Johner was yelling.

Somewhere deep inside himself, Vriess heard Johner, but he couldn't respond or even open his eyes to see the other man. He tried to scream again, but this time no sound would come.  He jerked once, twice, then suddenly gained control of his body once more.

Johner's face wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing one could see upon wakening, but to Vriess, it was comforting.  The other man was kneeling beside Vriess' bunk, leaning over him.

"Nightmare," Vries muttered in response to Johner's almost comical expression of concern.  He was still shaking a little, and he closed his eyes, hoping he'd be able to open them again.

"S'okay, it was just a dream," Johner muttered.  Vriess felt a rough hand rake through his hair, Johner's attempt at being nice.  Coming from him, it was downright touching.  Vriess opened his eyes once more as Johner sat back and leaned against the wall.

"Sorry if I woke you up," Vriess apologized.

"Glad you did," Johner said.  "I wasn't having nice dreams either."

"The creatures?"

"Yeah.  Killed one of the slimy little bastards."  Johner's lip twisted.  "What about you?"

"Ripley and Call," was all Vriess could get out.

"Sounds interesting."

"Not for you.  You were dinner."

"Why am I not surprised?" Johner muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.  "You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah.  Just. . . I'm hungry."  Vriess shook his head in amazement, earning a chuckle from Johner.  "I don't know how I could be hungry after _that_ , but I am."

"Well God knows when you ate last.  Last thing I had on the _Auriga_ was booze, before all the shit started, and you weren't even around then."  Johner slapped him rather hard on the shoulder.  "C'mon, let's get you something to eat."

"Don't worry about it, I'll wait--"

"Like Hell you will.  We're not losing any more crew, especially to starvation."  Johner reached over Vriess to grab him around the waist and bodily haul him out of bed.  He set the smaller man on his hip like a child and started for the kitchen area of the ship, leaving Vriess no alternative but to hang on.  Johner dumped Vriess unceremoniously in a chair and started looking through their supply of frozen food.

"You in the mood for steak?  I'd like a steak."

"Didn't you already eat?"

"Yeah, so?" Johner replied as he pulled two prepackaged steaks from the freezer.

"Johner, we shouldn't waste--"

"Waste?  You don't think we _deserve_ a little special treatment after the shit we've been through?"  Johner looked over his shoulder at Vriess as he ripped open the packaging and slapped the frozen meat in a pan.  "Besides, who's left to care?"

In spite of himself, Vriess smiled.  "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Damn straight."  Johner slid the pan under the laser-powered device that instantly thawed their food, then he dumped the steaks on the make-shift grill Vriess had rigged up for the _Betty_ in happier days.  Johner lit the heating element under the rack, which was made from the front grill of some ancient vehicle, and started rummaging around the storage bins for seasoning.  Vriess watched as Johner's hulking form moved around the kitchen with surprising agility.

"Doesn't look like there's much to go with it," Johner muttered.  "Guess those army bastards didn't get around to loading that food they promised us."

"It's all right."  The steaks were starting to smell very, very good, and Vriess's mouth watered.  His many faults aside, Johner could certainly cook a piece of meat.  Johner produced two sodas, tossing one to Vriess without even looking at him, then he started examining single-serving portions of pie.

"Wonder how old this is."

Vriess studied Johner's face as Johner studied the pie.  Long, grizzled, and scarred (and that, Vriess thought guiltily, was because of him), it was probably the least friendly (humanoid) face Vriess had seen in some time.  Still, it was a familiar unfriendliness, and Vriess was thankful its owner had survived.

Still, if Vriess had gotten to pick, it would have been Christie instead of Johner who made it.  Vriess and Christie had been through a lot together, and it was Christie who had carried him on his back through the _Auriga_ when Johner was perfectly willing to "ditch the cripple."  Vriess knew perfectly well that Johner wouldn't have done what Christie did-- sacrificed himself so that Vriess could live.

But then, Vriess remembered looking up the ladder into Johner's face as the huge man swung down by his knees, firing with both hands at the monster that took Christie with it when it died. Johner _had_ saved his life then, even if he had done so for Christie's sake and not Vriess's.

And Johner had kissed him.

"Hey Vriess, how do you want your steak?"

Johner's voice jolted him back to the present.  "Uh, well done."

"Gross."  Johner flipped his own steak onto a tin plate and tossed it on the table.  "You're weird, you know that?"

"Yeah.  I know."  Vriess nursed his soda as Johner moved between the table and the makeshift grill, tearing a mouthful off his steak before checking on Vriess's.  Finally he pronounced the remaining steak done and presented it to Vriess before sitting down and devouring his own.

"Thanks," Vriess said as he cut into the meat.  That steak was the best thing he had ever tasted, and even the memory of his dream and the horrible things he had seen did nothing to diminish his appetite.  Johner was apparently just as hungry even though he had eaten once already; he finished his steak in record time and started in on a piece of pie.

"Hey, this isn't bad," he mumbled around a mouthful.  "A little freezer burnt, but it's decent."

"Jesus, Johner, chew with your mouth closed," Vriess muttered.

Johner leaned forward and made loud chomping noises at him.  Vriess flipped him off and concentrated on his meal.  When he glanced up again, Johner was looking past the edge of the table at Vriess's right leg, which was protruding from his chair.

"What?" Vriess asked sharply.  He was wearing shorts, as he usually did when he slept, which made it rather embarrassing.

Johner leaned over and poked at a spot on Vriess's thigh.  "What happened there?"

Vriess looked at the pitted, warped flesh of a seared wound about an inch across.  "One of those damn monsters.  It dripped on me.  I didn't know it and put my hand right in it."  He grimaced.  "It got me on the ear too."

"Good thing you can't feel it then.  Looks pretty nasty."  Johner probed the wound with his finger.

"Hey, do you mind?"

Johner looked up into his face.  "Did you put something on this?  It looks like the acid cauterized it pretty well, but just to be safe--"

"Of course I did!" Vriess snapped.  He reached under his thigh and lifted his leg, moving it under the table out of sight.  "I have to look myself over every night, since I can't feel it if I get hurt."

Johner shoved the rest of his pie in his mouth and said around it, "What'd it do to your ear?"  Without waiting for an answer, he got up and went over to Vriess, pawing through his hair to examine his ear.

"Johner--"

"Hey, if you ever wanted an earring, I think now's your chance--"

"For Chrissakes, Johner!"  Vriess slapped his hand away.

"Geez, man, sorry."  Johner held up his hands.  "Just trying to help."

Vriess took a deep breath.  "Thank you, but I'll be fine."  He finished the last of his steak and glanced up at the other man.  "But thanks for the meal.  It was good."

Johner grinned.  "No problem.  You want some pie?"

"No, I'm good."  He squawked as Johner picked him up again without warning and carried him out of the kitchen.  "Aren't you going to clean up?"

"Nah, the womenfolk can take care of that."

"I don't think that's a good idea-- hey, take me by the bathroom, I need to brush my teeth."

Johner gave him a pained look.  "We nearly get killed, and you're worried about brushing your teeth?"

"Yes."  Johner rolled his eyes but carried him through the sleeping quarters to the bathroom.  "You can just set me down by the sink," Vriess ordered.  "I can lean on it and stand up."

Johner obeyed but remained standing directly behind Vriess as the shorter man carefully held onto the sink with one hand to maintain balance on his senseless legs.

"You can go now," he said pointedly to Johner as he got his toothbrush out.  "I can get to bed by myself."

Johner wasn't paying any attention; instead he was looking at Vriess' left leg.  "The nasties get you there too?"  He gestured to a bruised cut.

"No," Vriess said acidly, "that was you."

"Me?"

"When you threw the knife into my leg?"

"Oh yeah."  Johner grinned rather sheepishly.  "Sorry about that."

"Sure you are."  Vriess gave the toothpaste tube a vicious squeeze and started scrubbing at his teeth.

"No, really."  Johner crouched down next to him and peered at the wound, then at the rest of Vriess' leg.  "You sure you saw all these scrapes?  You're pretty banged up."

Vriess spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth.  "I can take care of myself, Johner.  I always have."  He took a deep breath.  "Why are you so concerned anyway?"

"Like I said, I don't want to lose any more friends."

Vriess raised an eyebrow.  "So we're friends now?"

"Okay, _you're_ the one who said I wasn't emotional enough.  You're never satisfied, are you?"  Johner put an arm around Vriess's waist.  "Are you done, or are we going to stand in the bathroom all night?"

"I'm done," Vriess said resignedly.

Johner picked up Vriess around the waist and shuffled into the sleeping quarters with him.  After setting the smaller man on his bunk, Johner lifted each of Vriess's legs onto the bed, then crouched there a moment, one large hand resting on Vriess's knee.  Vriess's heart clenched as he realized how much he wished he could feel that touch.

"You gonna dream again?"  Vriess looked from Johner's hand to his face, saw the deep-set blue eyes looking back at him.

"I don't know.  I hope not," Vriess murmured.

"Christ, I hope I don't either."  Johner took his hand from Vriess's knee and scrubbed his own face with it.  "But I bet we will, for a long time."

Watching him, Vriess suddenly realized why Johner seemed so concerned with him: it was Johner's way of distracting himself.  _He doesn't care any more about me than he ever did.  But thinking about me keeps him from thinking about **them**._

"Get some sleep," he said aloud.  "You look like crap."

"Thanks."  Johner crawled into his own bunk and lay down on his side facing Vriess.  In spite of his cynicism, Vriess felt better realizing that the other man was literally within arm's reach.  He pulled a blanket over his legs automatically, just as he woke automatically every few hours to move them in order to keep the blood flowing freely through his numb limbs.

Johner slapped a control on the wall, dimming the lights.  Immediately monsters formed in the looming shadows of the room, and Vriess imagined scuffling in the walls around them, even though the only real sound he heard was Johner's harsh breathing.  Vriess squeezed his eyes shut, but it only made things worse.  Finally, he turned his head toward Johner and traced the silhouette of the other man with his eyes.

Screw Johner anyway.  Vriess didn't need this, to be developing feelings for someone else who would reject him-- and probably not nearly as gently as Call had either.

 _Jesus Christ,_ thought Vriess.  _I've got to get out more._

\--

"Tell me about them," Call said quietly.  "The people you cared about."

"Why?"  Ripley glanced at her.  "It was a long time ago.  And besides, I'm not really Ellen Ripley.  You said yourself, she's dead."

"Yes, but you have her memories, don't you?"

Ripley smirked without humor.  "I also have as much of the queen in me as I do of Ripley."

Call shifted in her seat to face Ripley, studying her carefully.  "No, I don't think so.  You don't have the creature's memories do you?  And the human in you obviously has control."

"The queen had no memories.  She was only a larva when we died."  Ripley held out her long white arms and turned them slowly in front of her.  "But I suppose Ripley is the dominant force at work here." She was silent for a few moments before going on.  "Ripley, she-- _I_ had a mother.  I don't remember her except for a dream I had, where we're walking in a field together, and she leaves me.  But I'm upset when she leaves, so I guess that means I cared about her.  Then I had a daughter too, whom  I must have loved."

Ripley fell silent again, her eyes looking down at the Earth but obviously not seeing.  _I bet that's how I looked when I was accessing Father,_ Call thought nervously.  _The look of stealing someone else's memories._

"I told her I would be home for her birthday," Ripley said thoughtfully.  "But my ship got lost. . . .  By the time I got home, she was dead of old age."

"God, I'm sorry," Call blurted out.  Ripley glanced at her without really seeing her.

"There was another little girl too, who reminded me of her.  That one drowned."  Ripley's brow furrowed.  "I think there was a man there too.  Yes.  And the auton I told you about-- Bishop."

Call's dark eyes were wide.  "They all died?"

"Yes.  Except for Bishop.  He was scrapped, though, and when I reactivated him, he just asked me to kill him.  Everywhere I go, people keep asking me to kill them."  Ripley stood and paced in the narrow space between the two chairs.  "Just like I said-- everyone I care about dies."

"But that was because of those-- those _things_!" Call protested.  "They're gone now."

Ripley turned to look down at the smaller woman.  "No, they're not."  She tapped her own forehead and smiled.  "They're right here."

"It's not the same."  Call looked out the window, sulking unconsciously.  "Unless you plan to lay eggs in me or something."

"Hmm."  Ripley cocked her head to the side again.  "The creatures do seem to adapt quickly, but I don't think I'll figure out how to hatch kids in an auton any time soon."  She knelt by Call's chair and took her face in her hands.  "I'll make a deal with you, all right?  I'll give caring another shot if you promise not to die on me.  Okay?"

Call found herself giggling at Ripley's deadpan absurdity.  "All right."

And then Ripley leaned up and kissed her.

"R-ripley," Call stammered for want of knowing what to do.  She leaned forward slightly, half wanting Ripley to kiss her again and half wanting to jump out of the chair and run.  Ripley studied her face and smiled, as if she could see Call's conflicting thoughts.

"Was it like this with Elgyn?"  A sick feeling washed over Call, and she tried to pull away, but Ripley held her fast with her lips curling in a smile.  "No?"

"I already told you about that," Call glared down at her.  "Why are you--"

"Just making sure."  Ripley half-stood only to kneel on the edge of Call's chair.  "It's been a long time, and I don't really remember how humans go about it."  She leaned forward until her face was only a couple inches from Call's.

"But I'm not human."

"No."  Ripley smiled.  "You're better."  She kissed Call again, close-mouthed and very softly.  This time, Call didn't want to run away at all.

\--

Vriess wasn't sure how long he had been lying awake, but it had to have been at least half an hour when Johner got up again.  Vriess watched him, grey and blurred in the near-darkness, trudge to the bathroom then emerge a minute later to stand in the doorway.

"Vriess?"

"Yeah."

"Just wondered if you were awake."  Johner shuffled over and sat on the edge of Vriess's bunk as he scrubbed his hands over his eyes.  "Jesus, I'm so fucking tired, but every time I close my eyes. . . I see _them_."

"I know.  I see them too."  Vriess sat up, pushing his upper body into a sitting position with his arms.  Tentatively, he put his hand on Johner's shoulder.  "But they're gone-- they're all dead.  We're safe now."  He said it as much to reassure himself as Johner.

Johner turned his face towards him in the darkness.  "Safe.  Huh," he said wonderingly.  "You know, I used to know this guy, back before I joined up with the _Betty_.  His name was Nooj, but everyone called him the Deathseeker.  He'd lost an arm and a leg in some military op, and he had robotic ones made to replace 'em.  Maybe that was why, but he would do the craziest shit, take any mission, like he really did want to die.  I'd forgotten about him, until we were on that ladder and Christie--"

A flicker of pain made Vriess cringe, and Johner put his large hand on top of Vriess's smaller one.  "Well, what Christie did-- it reminded me of Nooj.  Before I never thought too much about dyin', but then I realized that either me or Nooj is a moron because I'd do anything to stay alive."

Normally Vriess would have volunteered an opinion on the moron subject, but the warmth of Johner's hand on his stopped him.  He squeezed Johner's shoulder gently.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to live."  Vriess thought of Hilliard, of Christie, of Nooj the Deathseeker.  " _Or_ with wanting to die."

Johner clenched his hand.  "What's that mean?"

"Nothing."

"You're not--"

"No," Vriess interrupted.  "I didn't mean anything.  Trust me, Johner, after working that hard to stay alive, I'm not giving up any time soon."

"Good."  Johner sighed and let go of his hand.  After a moment, he added in a gruff voice, "I need you, Vriess.  Otherwise it's just me and the girls."

Vriess managed a chuckle despite his heart's rapid pounding.  "I never thought I'd hear you complain about _that_."

"I wouldn't if they weren't _those_ two girls."  Johner lay back as if the bunk were his own and put his hands behind his head.  Vriess lay down next to him, feeling somehow safer with Johner beside him.

"You know what you wanna do on Earth?" Johner asked conversationally around a yawn.

"Hide from the military.  I'm sure they'll be looking for us if Father sent off any records.  At least we should be pretty far from the crash site now. . . although I dunno how we'll hide _Betty_."  Vriess yawned as well.  "I wonder where we are, anyway. . . ."

He frowned when he got no response, then he realized that Johner had fallen asleep.  Vriess rolled his eyes and nudged the big man, but Johner was dead to the world.

"G'night, you son of a bitch," Vriess muttered fondly.  He leaned his head against Johner's shoulder and closed his eyes.  The sound of the other man's breathing, the warmth of his skin on Vriess's cheek, and the solidness of his muscled arm against Vriess's side kept the monsters from appearing.  Vriess fell asleep quickly, and this time he did not dream.

\--

Call jerked away from Ripley for the third time and looked over her shoulder worriedly.

"I could have sworn I heard something," she muttered.

Ripley smiled tolerantly.  "I'll go check on the others if you're so worried."  She got up from the chair where they had been curled up together and stalked down the bridge with her inhuman flowing gait.  After a moment, she returned from the sleeping cabins. . . and she was smirking.

"I don't think we have to worry.  Come see."

Puzzled, Call followed the taller woman back to the cabins.  When Ripley pushed a button to slide open the door to the men's cabin, Call peeked in.  She stared for a moment before drawing away, gaping, as Ripley let the door close

"I don't believe it," Call said, flapping her hands in a useless gesture.  "What are they doing in bed together?  They _hate_ each other."

"Maybe not," Ripley said wryly.  She moved close to Call and stilled the girl's hands with her own.  "But I don't think you heard anything."

\--

The sun was rising, turning the cloudy sky a rich palette of oranges and pinks, as the _Betty_ touched down to Earth.  Call and Ripley emerged from the little ship, blinking away the dust raised by the craft's landing.  It irritated the delicate workings of Call's synthetic sinuses, and she sniffed repeatedly.

The two walked a short distance from the _Betty_ and sat down on one of the many rocks dotting the scrubland.  By chance, they had landed on a cliff overlooking what Vriess said had once been the capital of his home country.  The city's name was Paris.

"So this is Earth, hunh?"  It was all Call could think of to say.

"This is Earth," Ripley replied, sounding slightly amused.

"It's my first time here," Call went on, though Ripley knew that, because she felt compelled to break the strange silence around them.  It was so different from the silence of space, for it was full of small noises: the wind, the hum of the _Betty's_ engines as Vriess shut her down, the occasional rustling from some small animal in the stubbly grass.  "'Spose the military will be sniffing around here pretty soon.  Bet you're not too anxious to see them."

"Not really."  Ripley finally raised her eyes from the ground to look out at the shell of the city below them.

"You know, a person could get pretty lost around here if they wanted to."  Call glanced at Ripley hopefully with another sniffle.  "What do you think?  What should we do?"

"I dunno," Ripley said, and she smiled.  "I'm a stranger here myself."

\--

The End


End file.
